


winter sun

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Courtship, Falling In Love, Inquisitor Carver Hawke, M/M, Warden Bethany Hawke, Warden Felix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver never quite forgot the young sick man who risked his life to warn him of his father's plans. He's a Warden now, healthy and happy and twice as gorgeous. He's also moving into his keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Carver as Inquisitor and Felix as Warden liaison. Also Bethany is alive because I want her to be.
> 
> Inspired by countless hours of headcanons with [Byacolate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/) and then prompted to finish it by [rachel4revenge](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel4revenge/).

The first thing Carver notices is how different Felix looks - almost nothing like the sick man he met two years ago. No Tevinter robes this time. Instead the familiar ensemble of blue and silver, the eagle gleaming proudly on his upper arm. He still wears his hair cropped short but his face has filled out. No more hollow cheeks and dark circles underneath his eyes. 

 

“Inquisitor.” The address is accompanied by a little bow and an honest smile that grows teeth when he sees Carver make a face. “Thank you for your invitation.”

 

“Well, he hardly had a choice, now did he?” Bethany finally lets go of his arm and Carver gingerly rubs the spot where her nails dug into his skin. He doesn’t remember her being so strong. “He couldn’t just say no to his own family.” 

 

“I didn’t know they would send you,” Carver says, mostly because it’s the truth. Also to make Bethany gasp in mock outrage. 

 

“You’d rather have a complete stranger act as your liaison?” She shakes her head. “Fine. We can go back and send someone else instead. What do you think, Felix? Perhaps Velanna?” 

 

Felix grins. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled.” 

 

“You wouldn’t,” Carver says. “I’ve met Velanna!” 

 

Bethany pats his shoulder. “Oh, that’s right. And you got along so splendidly!” 

 

Carver scoffs and shrugs off her hand. “I didn’t say I don’t want you here,” he grumbles. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” 

 

“I’ll forgive you. Just this once.” She tuts him but before she steps away she reaches out so squeeze his arm one last time. Some things never change. 

 

“We’ve prepared rooms for you. Near the kitchens.” 

 

Bethany laughs. “Great. I’m starving.” And then, when Carver cocks an eyebrow, “And also exhausted. Don’t judge.” She’s half-way through the main hall before she notices that Felix isn’t following her. “You coming?” 

 

“In a moment,” he says. “Try not to finish all the food before I get there.”

 

“No promises.” She gives him a quizzical look but leaves.

 

Not everything is different, Carver thinks as Felix steps closer. The same easy smile. The same eyes. Even on death’s doorstep it was difficult to deny that Felix was good-looking. But now Carver finds it hard not to stare. 

 

“I was wondering if you could spare a moment of your time,” Felix asks. “I would like to discuss something.”

 

It’s not quite what Carver expected. “Uh, of course. Is it alright if we go somewhere else? I don’t like…” He makes a gesture that he hopes encompasses everything he abhors about the main hall - the golden throne, the open space, the Orlesians nipping at his heels with every step. 

 

Felix nods, a little smile hiding his surprise. “Of course, Your Worship.” 

 

Carver stops in his tracks. “And none of that, please.” His tone is a little bit more pleading than Josephine would've found seemly but Carver finds he doesn’t care all that much. “Carver is fine.” 

 

He leads Felix through a side entrance and a small corridor before ushering him out into the garden. At this late hour it’s almost completely empty, apart from a couple of mages seeing to the little herb garden in the corner. 

 

“When I saw you last, they still called you Herald,” Felix says, easily falling into step next to Carver. “If I remember correctly you weren’t very fond of that title either.” 

 

“I can only imagine the next one they’ll come up with will be even worse,” Carver grumbles and is surprised by Felix’s laughter. 

 

“I’m sure your sister would be happy to come up with a few suggestions.” 

 

They slowly make their way through the garden. The sun stands low enough in the sky to make the walls cast long shadows over them but it’s still pleasantly warm. Whenever Carver turns his head, he catches the light smile on Felix’s lips but he notices the tension in his shoulders. Normally his reluctance to address whatever he wanted to talk about would irritate Carver but now, for some reason, he’s inclined to wait until Felix feels comfortable. 

 

“I was glad to hear that you survived the Joining,” he supplies after a couple more minutes of silence. 

 

“You were?” The surprise in Felix’s voice is somewhat startling. 

 

“Of course. You risked your life for… the Inquisition.” Carver clears his throat. “Not many would’ve done what you did.” 

 

“Not many would’ve had to.” 

 

Carver comes to a halt next to a group of trees, the scent of their flowers heady in the air. It’s far away enough from prying eyes. Or curious mages falling suspiciously quiet in the hope of eavesdropping. “You want to ask about your father.” 

 

Felix swallows visibly and folds his arms. “I suppose it doesn’t come as a surprise.” 

 

“He’s not here.” 

 

“I figured as much.” Felix sighs and the way his shoulders droop makes something in Carver’s chest twist painfully. 

 

“He doesn’t like me very much,” Carver says and Felix gives him a quizzical look. “I know. Shocking. I’m told it takes a while for my charms to work on people.”

 

“I don’t understand -”

 

“He’s safe. I would’ve let him stay here in Skyhold but it wasn’t the safest place for him, after everything.” His eyes flick to the mages at the other end of the garden and Felix follows his gaze. “Some people weren’t too fond of him. We thought it’d be better if he continued his work somewhere safe.”

 

Felix shakes his head. “He didn’t write to me. He used to in the beginning but he stopped.” 

 

“That’s probably Leliana’s fault. Our spymaster. I can talk to her if you want.” Carver wishes Felix would look at least a little bit more convinced. “But he’s alright. I promise you.” 

 

For a moment, Felix looks smaller than he is. Almost fragile, even in the Warden armor. There is something haunted in his eyes, a tension around his mouth. This must have gnawed at him for a while. Carver knows it’s not his fault but can’t help but feel responsible. Then, Felix straightens up. He doesn’t smile but he looks a little relieved. It’s a start. 

 

“Thank you,” he says. 

 

Carver feels the urge to touch him. To take his hand or do anything to reassure him. Instead folds his arms. “I know nothing about any of this magic stuff,” he says, “but I hear he’s doing good work. He’s helping. Especially after he found out that you’ll live.”

 

Felix smiles at that, a little private thing he hides when he ducks his head. “I’m glad. It’s more than I could’ve hoped for.” 

 

“He talked about you a lot when he was still here,” Carver says and makes sure to keep his gaze anywhere but on Felix. “Said you were the only other person who understood his research. Apart from Dorian, perhaps.” 

 

“My father exaggerates,” Felix says but Carver’s delighted to see a little color creeping up his neck. It’s better than the tension from before. 

 

“We still have a lot of his things here. Notes and books and charts none of us understands. If you want I can ask our Arcanist to show them to you.” 

 

Felix perks up. “Arcanist Dagna?” he asks, the excitement in his voice barely veiled. “I’ve heard so much about her. I would love…” He catches Carver’s smile and laughs, a bit embarrassed. “It’d be really nice to work with her.” 

 

“See? “ Carver’s smile widens. “You’re welcome to stay. Unless the Wardens call you back to Weisshaupt or…” 

 

“Vigil’s Keep,” Felix says. “And no. For now, I’m all yours.” And then, with a little smile, “ _ Carver _ .”

 

There’s something behind his words, something Carver can’t quite place but that still makes his heart beat a bit faster. Something that makes him restless for the rest of the evening, even long after Felix left for his room and Carver returned to his duties. A slight tingle at the back of his neck. A promise of something just beyond the horizon. 

 

* * *

 

“Oh.” Carver stops dead in his tracks in the door. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.” 

 

Felix looks up from the table and quickly swallows the bit of bread in his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says and makes to get up. “I was just getting something to eat.”

 

Carver steps into the kitchen and closes the door behind him. “No, no. That’s fine. It’s just… I’m usually the only one here at this time of night.” 

 

“So you do this often?” Felix leans back into his chair, even though the line of his shoulders is still tense. He’s out of his armor, in just a soft white shirt with the top laces undone to reveal the dark skin of his chest. Carver quickly turns to the stove closest to him and grabs a pot from the hook on the wall. 

 

“Sometimes,” he admits as he starts preparing his cocoa. He’s spent enough sleepless nights here to know exactly where to find the things he needs and it only gets a little bit more difficult when he avoids staring at Felix. “I don’t sleep very well.” 

 

“I know the feeling,” Felix says and Carver turns around to find him cutting a huge chunk of cheese into smaller cubes on his plate. 

 

“So I take it you do this often as well?” He doesn’t even bother with hiding his grin as he stirs the milk as it heats up.

 

Felix chuckles, a warm sound that makes Carver’s heart beat a little faster. “I blame the Taint,” he says. “I’m basically always hungry nowadays.” 

 

“Oh, I know _that_ feeling.” Carver steps forward to steal a piece of cheese from Felix’s plate.

 

“And what's your excuse?” 

 

Carver shrugs and pours his cocoa into a mug. “I’m a Hawke. We’re all born with bottomless pits instead of stomachs.” 

 

Felix laughs and with one foot nudges a chair out from under the table so that Carver can sit down. He’s not wearing shoes, despite the cold stone floor and the fact that the fire in the hearth has burned down to a last few smoldering pieces of coal. 

 

Felix catches Carver’s surprised look and his smiles widens. “Another side effect of the Taint,” he says and puts his hand lightly on Carver’s arm. “I run very hot most of the time.” 

 

Carver swallows. “That’s… good to know.” He takes a quick sip of cocoa just to avoid having to come up with a wittier response, only to set down the mug again immediately. “Ugh, this one definitely isn’t running hot.” He starts getting up to reheat his drink when Felix’s hand on his arm returns and guides him back down. 

 

“Let me,” he says and pulls the mug over the tabletop towards him. He curls his fingers around it and closes his eyes in concentration. Carver doesn’t know where to looks first - at the little steep line between Felix’s eyebrows or at his slightly parted lips or at the steam that slowly but surely starts to rise from his mug. 

 

“I sort of forgot that you’re a mage,” Carver admits as he takes back his reheated cocoa. And then, as if to justify, “You don’t carry a staff.” 

 

Felix shrugs. “Only for actual fighting.” He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’m not a very good mage.” 

 

“Really?” Carver doesn’t mean to sound so surprised. 

 

“Really.” Felix points to the mug in Carver’s hands. “That’s about the extent of what I can do without breaking a sweat.” 

 

Carver makes a contemplative noise. “I always thought Tevinter mages were the strongest in Thedas.” 

 

It’s probably an offensive thing to say and he fully expects Felix to shut down as soon the words leave his mouth, but Felix just laughs again. “Most of them are, I suppose. But mistakes happen even in the best families.” 

 

Carver frowns. “You’re not a mistake.” 

 

Felix startles, his smile giving way to surprise. “Oh, uh, that was perhaps the wrong word.” He takes a piece of bread from his plate but doesn’t seem to have any intention of eating it as he just turns it in his hands instead. “I meant to say that even a strong magical heritage is no guarantee.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Carver doesn’t know what to say. He already regrets bringing up the topic at all. 

 

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.” Felix’s smile returns. “And my parents never cared much about it. I think they just wanted me to be happy. My father -” He stops, his head snapping up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” He looks absolutely mortified.

 

“No,” Carver says quickly. “It’s no problem. You’re allowed to talk about him, you know? He’s your father after all…”

 

Felix doesn’t look up, his long fingers picking apart the piece of bread in front of him. “He hurt you.” 

 

“Not just me.” 

 

“Oh.” Felix fingers still. “Of course.” It’s only when he sees the shame on Felix’s face that he realizes what he said. Silently, he curses his big mouth. 

 

“No,” he says quickly and just a little bit too loudly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, yes, he hurt more people than just me. But… he hurt himself as well.” He swallows. “He hurt you.” 

 

Felix looks up, disbelief plain on his face. “He did it _ for _ me.” 

 

Carver shrugs. “There are worse reasons for destroying the world.” It’s flippant and he knows it. He says it mostly to startle Felix into a smile and is altogether too pleased when it works. 

 

Felix ducks his head just heartbeat too late and continues taking apart the bread, littering the tabletop with tiny crumbs. Carver takes a sip of his cocoa. It’s almost cozy like this, despite the silence. The smoldering coals in the fireplace crackle from time to time but the rest of the keep is quiet, fast asleep. 

 

“I wouldn’t have been much use, right? You said you saw me die,” Felix suddenly says, his voice hardly more than a whisper, as if he’s afraid of disturbing the quiet. “In that future he sent you to.” 

 

Carver puts his mug down. “You remember that?”

 

“Of course.” Felix blinks. “That’s a difficult thing to forget.”

 

“It is.” 

 

Felix winces. “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you. If I could go back and stop my father sooner... If I could spare you from -” 

 

Carver reaches out and puts his hand over Felix’s. “Hey,” he says. “Don’t do that.” 

 

“I don’t -”

 

“That self-deprecating bullshit. You did what you could. Nobody ever could've asked more of you.” 

 

Felix opens his mouth as if to says something, only to close it a moment later. It might be a trick of the light but it almost looks like his cheeks have gone a shade darker. “Thank you,” he finally says. 

 

Carver is suddenly very much aware of the fact that his is still holding Felix’s hand. Not just covering it, but actually holding it, his finger curled around Felix’s. He clears his throat and pulls back under the guise of picking up his mug for another sip. Felix’s finger twitch for a second before he curls them into a fist and hides them in his lap. There is definitely some color in his cheeks now and Carver feels a little ball of dread in his stomach. He’s probably moved too quickly, been too forward as he’s prone to be. 

 

Not that someone as gorgeous as Felix would even want to hold his hand. 

 

Andraste’s tits, just having these thoughts is a little embarrassing. He’s not a boy anymore who’s so easily flustered by smooth dark skin and big brown eyes and full lips that are just… 

 

Carver shakes his head. Perhaps he’s more tired than he thought. Felix startles at the sudden movement when Carver pushes back his chair and gets up. “I should get back to bed,” he says. “At least try to get some sleep.” 

 

For a moment, something almost like disappointment flashes across Felix’s face but before Carver can be sure, it’s replaced by a smile. “Of course. I should go as well.” Felix hesitates. “Perhaps we will meet here again sometime. It’s much more pleasant than spending these sleepless nights alone.” 

 

That could mean anything, Carver thinks. No need to jump to conclusions. “That would be nice.” 

 

He’s just being nice. Polite. As some people who are not Carver Hawke sometimes are. But still, Carver can’t help but feel the warmth of Felix’s smile so much more pronounced than the heat of the fire or the cocoa in his stomach as he makes his way back to his room. Not even the chilly corridors of Skyhold can take that from him. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Your footwork is terrible,” Cassandra says and taps the blunt edge of her sword against his thigh for good measure. As if Carver needed more of an reminder. As if the bruises undoubtedly already blooming underneath his breeches weren’t enough. 

 

He grunts something between annoyance and defeat that makes the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement. At least in that he manages to please her. 

 

“You’re distracted,” she says and takes one of the towels slung over the training yard’s fence to wipe the sweat from her brow. Carver’s secretly proud of even the slightest gleam of sweat on her skin. When they first started sparring, back in Haven, he didn’t even manage to cause that much. 

 

“Not distracted,” Carver says and takes the second towel for himself. “Just tired.” It’s too early for the sun to stand high enough to shine over the outer walls and into the yard but it’s already warm enough that he had to take off his shirt halfway through their sparring session. As he dabs away the beads of sweat on his chest, his mind already wanders, somewhat hazy now that he doesn’t have to dodge the swings of Cassandra’s sword anymore. 

 

He only notices that she’s speaking when she makes an irritated noise at the back of her throat, sharp enough to pull him back into reality. 

 

“Mhm?” He blinks and it only earns him another scowl. 

 

“I said, you need to do something about that. These sleepless night are starting to impact your work.” 

 

He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I’m a little slower in the ring  _ once _ -”

 

Cassandra sighs. “That’s not what I meant,” she says and slings her towel over her shoulder. “But it’s been a cause for concern. Even you need sleep.” 

 

“So you’ve been talking about me? Great.” 

 

She doesn’t deign to even answer this with anything other than with that look she reserves for the times when he’s behaving like a stubborn child. Like he is now. Cassandra never had the patience for his temper. 

 

Carver runs the towel over his face and then through his hair, roughly enough to muss it up and to clear his mind. “Sorry,” he says and leans against the fence. “I’ve tried those potions the healers gave me but they don’t work at all. And they taste like shit.” 

 

“The good potions usually do.” Cassandra folds her arms. “Look, we can’t have you running around half-dead on your feet. I hear there are spells that can -”

 

Carver huffs and shakes his head. “If you honestly think I’m gonna let some mage put me under you have seriously lost your mind. I’ve had the pleasure once. Never again.” 

 

“I didn’t know you were so distrustful of mages,” Cassandra says and raises an eyebrow. 

 

“You know I’m not.” Sleeplessness makes him even more irritated than he normally is. Even with Cassandra who usually only gets him on his best behavior. 

 

He’s saved by two of Cullen’s soldiers who are slowly edging into the ring - clearly too polite to claim the space outright, even though Cassandra and him are done with their sparring session. He gives them an apologetic nod, picks up his shirt and sword, and gets out of the way. Cassandra follows him, obviously not done with the topic yet. 

 

Carver and Cassandra are usually the first ones in the training yard but it’s late enough for others to come out for their training. The air is already filled with chatter and the clanking of swords. Carver knows from experience that within the hour, it’s going to be impossible to hear his own thoughts over the noise. 

 

He makes his way to the rack by the high stone wall where they keep most of the training weapons. He’s not dumb enough to fight Cassandra with a sharp sword. As he puts away the blunt two-hander, he spots a familiar figure by the training dummies, the morning light catching in the silver of his uniform. 

 

Carver has never seen Felix fight before. Come to think of it, he can’t remember ever seeing him with a staff in his hands. But here he is, twirling a long wooden staff with a solid metal ball on one end and a sharp blade on the other. Carver’s fought enough Tevinter mages in his time to recognize the technique as Felix passes the staff behind his back in an elegant movement. The only thing that’s missing is the familiar crackle of magic - fire or ice or  _ something _ . He remembers the conversation they had a few nights ago. Perhaps Felix wasn’t just being humble when he said he wasn’t a very powerful mage. 

 

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Felix brings his staff back around and in a sharp upward movement rams the tip of his blade into the wooden dummy. There is a spark and a cracking sound and when Felix takes a step back, staff already ready for the next strike, Carver can clearly see the smoldering hole left in the wood. 

 

“Maker’s balls…” 

 

Cassandra doesn’t even give him one of the dirty looks she usually gives him for cursing, her brow knitted in confusion. “What was that?” 

 

“I have no idea.” Carver can only stare. 

 

“The blade’s enchanted,” a familiar voice says right behind him, close enough to startle him. Bethany steps forward to link her arm with his and gently bump her hip against his thigh. “Impressive, isn’t it?” 

 

“It is,” Cassandra says. “I’ve never seen a mage fight like this.” 

 

Carver just nods, too busy with watching Felix launch another attack on the poor dummy. The next hit lands on the side of its head, taking out a large chip of wood. 

 

“It caused quite the stir at Vigil’s Keep. The Warden-Commander loves him.” 

 

“I bet.” Carver swallows.

 

Bethany cocks her head. “What happened to your hair?” 

 

He shakes his head, a little irritated. “What? Oh, right.” He quickly pats his hair down, just in time for Felix to turn around and notice his small audience. He lifts his hand in greeting and makes his way over to them. 

 

“Good morning!” Felix smiles and somehow manages to look well-rested - even though Carver knows for a fact that he spent at least two hours up and awake in the kitchen last night. As he did almost every night of the past week. But while Carver can hardly manage to lift his sword without stumbling, there is not a hint of tiredness in Felix’s face. 

 

“Morning,” Carver mumbles, a little grumpier than intended, and Felix’s smile falters for just heartbeat, his eyes flicking to Carver’s bare chest. He blinks and Carver thinks he sees a bit of color creeping up his neck. Great, leave it to Carver Hawke to mess up with just one word. 

 

The hours they’ve spent together in the kitchen seem very far away, all of a sudden. All those conversations, the hushed voices and soft smiles. That feeling like his chest is suddenly too tight for his racing heart whenever Felix touches his arm or his hand. All of it washes out in the bright light of day, like a dream that slips from him, a little more with every waking hour. He has half a mind to just excuse himself and leave but Bethany’s arm around his is like a vice. 

 

“I was just telling my brother about the enchantments you cast on your staff blades, Felix,” she says, chipper as ever. “He’s very impressed, aren’t you, Carver?” And then, just a moment too late, “The Lady Seeker as well, of course.” 

 

Cassandra doesn’t seem to take offense, her greeting not any curter than usual. 

 

“Oh?” Felix rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’m not much of a fighter, I must admit. But the Wardens still expect everyone to be able to hold their own.” 

 

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Carver says. 

 

“I think the dummy would agree.” Cassandra adds. “I’m sure some of our mages could learn a thing or two from you. Most of them rely too heavily on their spells and completely underestimate  melee combat.” 

 

Felix laughs. “It’s difficult to underestimate if it’s the only thing available to you.” 

 

Cassandra is startled into a smile. “I suppose that’s true. But still, if you’re willing, I’d send some of them your way.”

 

“I’d be delighted to help.” 

 

Cassandra takes her leave soon after and Felix seems to relax, just a little bit, even if Carver still can’t shake the feeling that he’s avoiding eye contact. Bethany still doesn’t relinquish her grip on Carver’s arm, even as all three of them make their way back to the main building. Perhaps she has finally mastered the ability of reading his mind and knows that he considered running. He wouldn’t put it past her. 

 

Just before they reach the stairs leading up to the main hall, she slinks away from his side, leaving an awkward gap between him and Felix. “I completely forgot that I promised Varric a visit,” she says. Carver knows her well enough to spot the lie and she knows him well enough to know that he did. But she’s gone before he can call her out on it, pressing a quick kiss to Felix’s cheek before leaving. 

 

“Typical,” Carver says and slips his shirt back on, just to give his hands something to do. He’s not too fond of the idea of crossing a hall full of Orlesians in this state of undress. Felix blinks and turns his head, suddenly much more interested in whatever is happening at the other end of the courtyard. 

 

Carver feels the need to apologize without knowing for what. Just the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him he needs to say something. Anything to break the silence. But his lips won’t move - all words trapped on the tip of his tongue. 

 

Felix clears his throat. “I should go,” he says. “I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.” Carver’s disappointment burns like a physical ache in his stomach. Surely he must’ve done something wrong. He usually does. 

 

“Of course,” he says, every steady word a hard-won victory. 

 

Felix fidgets but makes no move to leave. “Will I see you tonight?” 

 

Carver blinks, certain he must have misheard. “What?” 

 

“Tonight. In the kitchen.” Felix ducks his head and for the first time Carver considers that it might be out of embarrassment rather than out of annoyance. “It’s not… I was just wondering.” 

 

“Yes. I mean, probably.” Carver tries for a smile. “I’m still not sleeping very well.” 

 

He can see Felix taking a deep breath. “Is it terrible of me to hope that you won’t be able to fall asleep again tonight?” 

 

Carver laughs and feels some of the dread in his stomach lift with it. “A little bit.”

 

“Let’s just say I’d be happy with both outcomes then.”

 

Carver finds he'd be completely fine with both of them as well. And against better judgement, he might be hoping for one of them a little bit more than for the other. 

 

* * *

 

 

“So when are you going to ask me?” Bethany leans back against the headboard of Carver’s bed and takes another sip of wine, her eyes gleaming as she watches him. 

 

Carver turns a bit in his chair. “About what?” 

 

“Felix, of course.” 

 

Carver almost tips over his own cup and saves it just before its contents can spill all over the reports Josephine gave him to review. There are already more than enough smudges on them, which she surely won’t be very happy about. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says hastily. 

 

Bethany bats her eyelashes, the perfect image of innocence. “I know you want to ask me about him. That’s what you’d do all the time when you liked someone!”

 

“I did not!” 

 

She lowers her voice in imitation of what he can only assume is supposed to be his own. “Oh, Bethany! Please ask her if she’s seeing someone! Bethany, please find out if he likes boys!” 

 

“Oh, stop it.” He knows he won’t be able to blame the color rising in his cheeks on the wine. 

 

Bethany laughs and the familiar sound makes him smile despite the topic at hand. He’s missed this. Just spending time with her. Long evenings and drinking and the comforting feeling of having her close. They don’t even talk all that much. Just existing in each other’s space is usually enough for them. It used to be like this all the time before Garrett took them to the Deep Roads and everything went to shit. 

 

“I could ask you the same thing, really,” Carver says. “See how you like it.”

 

“What? About Felix?” Bethany bites her bottom lip but it does nothing to hide her grin. 

 

“No. About… others.” Carver suddenly finds the content of his cup a lot more interesting. “About men. Women.  _ People _ .”

 

Bethany’s shaking with suppressed laughter, almost spilling wine all over his bed. “Do you really want to know?” 

 

“Not really,” Carver groans and Bethany has the audacity to actually snicker. 

 

She scoots over a little bit and pats the empty spot next to her. “Come here. You’re not going to get any work done tonight anyway.” 

 

She’s right of course but Carver still makes a bit of a fuss before joining her on the bed. Just because. She pulls the blanket over his bare feet as soon as he sits down, like she used to do when they were little. 

 

It’s a little easier like this - close to her but with the back against the headboard so that he doesn’t have to look at her if he doesn’t want to. Sometimes the truth is more difficult for him when the other person can read every emotion right on his face. Bethany remembers that. Like she remembers his perpetually cold feet. 

 

He takes a sip of wine. It’s the weird spicy stuff that they usually serve only on Satinalia but that Bethany drinks all year around. She leans her head against his shoulder for a moment and her soft hair tickles his neck. 

 

“You know, you’re allowed to be happy, right?” 

 

Carver scoffs. “I am.” 

 

“You know what I mean.” She nudges him in the side with one sharp elbow. 

 

“We’re not kids anymore, Bethany. I don’t need you to set me up with anyone.” 

 

“Oh, because you’re doing such a great job all by yourself?”

 

He jerks his shoulder until she takes her head off it. “No, because there are much more important things to worry about right now.”

 

He can feel her looking a him but when she reaches out to lace her fingers through his, he lets her. “About this?” she asks quietly and turns his hand. Even through the thin leather glove, he can see the angry green of the Anchor pulsing in his palm. 

 

He doesn’t pull away. “Among other things.” 

 

She’s silent for a moment, her thumb running gently over the back of his hand. “You know that the Wardens live on borrowed time, right?”

 

Carver tenses. “The Calling.” He knew even before Adamant. Bethany had told him a lot. Probably too much. 

 

“Yes, the Calling,” she says softly. “Nobody knows how much time they have. Sometimes it comes sooner, sometimes later. But it always comes.” 

 

Something twists in his chest. “Don’t say that.”

 

“No, let me.” She squeezes his hand. “You have to hear this.” 

 

He turns his head to look at her, even though it kills him to see her like this. No smile to hide behind. “Alright.” 

 

“Wardens know time,” she says, her voice thick. “Because we have so little of it. I know that. And Felix, perhaps more than most, knows it as well.” She looks at is hand. “You told me that this thing almost killed you once. I don’t know if that means you live on borrowed time as well. But believe me, you don’t want to waste a single second of it.” 

 

The silence that falls between them is heavy, laden with their shared grief. Filled with words they can never say. 

 

Tears prick his eyes but he takes a deep breath and gently bumps his shoulder against Bethany’s. “So,” he says, “when did you get so wise?” 

 

“Don’t you know?” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “I get smarter with every year that you get dumber. It’s a twin thing.” 

 

“That explains a lot, actually,” he says, just to make her laugh. 

 

She empties her cup and puts it one the nightstand before curling up against his side and slinging an arm across his stomach. He lifts his own cup to safety just in time. 

 

“He is, by the way,” she says, her face pressed into the fabric of his shirt. 

 

“Who is what?” 

 

“Felix. Interested in men.” 

 

Carver groans. “Maker’s breath…”

 

“I just thought you’d like to know…” 

 

He can’t see her face but he’s pretty sure she’s smiling. 

 

* * *

 

Carver descends the steps from the rookery, resisting the temptation of tucking his fingers under his armpits just to get some warmth back into them. He doesn’t know how Leliana can stand it. It’s not just drafty up there - there’s no ceiling. During the winter months, snow regularly finds its way onto her desk and all the windows are so full of fern frost that she can’t even look outside. Even now in summer, it gets uncomfortably cold. But she won’t listen - not even to Josephine who keeps imploring her to move her office somewhere more hospitable. 

 

He thinks he understands, if only just a little bit. Leliana claims the rookery is the perfect vantage point for a spymaster but Carver knows what a self-imposed exile looks like. She doesn’t talk, especially not to him, but he recognizes the guilt that carves long lines into her face and paints ashy streaks of grey into her hair. 

 

After the gloomy cold of the rookery, the warmth of the library downstairs is a welcome change. It has to be a spell, something Dorian cooked up probably. After all, the library is the only place in all of Southern Thedas where Dorian doesn’t complain about the cold. 

 

The sound of laughter carries over from the other end of the room, followed by voices Carver recognizes. Even in the dim light he can make out Dorian and Felix in the little alcove by the stairs, deep in conversation. As he steps closer he realizes that they’re talking in Tevene. He’s never heard either of them speak anything other than Common, the tone of their voice just different enough now to give him pause. 

 

Irritation pricks at the back of his neck when he realizes that this is also the first time he’s seen Dorian this relaxed. He’s seen him smile and joke but this is something completely different. They must have pulled another chair for Felix next to Dorian’s and the floor between them is littered with open books - all of them abandoned for a bottle of wine and a lively conversation, it seems.

 

Felix is the first to notice him, startled into a smile. The wine has tinted his lips a shade darker and Carver finds it difficult not to stare. 

 

“Inquisitor!” Dorian lifts his cup as if to toast. “What an interesting coincidence. We were just talking about you.” 

 

Felix’s cheeks color in a way that says Dorian is telling the truth and Carver really doesn’t know how to take that. He blinks, the familiar irritation stirring in his chest. He counts to five and swallows it down. 

 

“Oh?” he says and folds his arms. 

 

“Only good things, of course,” Dorian says and Felix is quick to nod in agreement. Carver tries not to think about the fact that even the things Dorian might deem “good” could make Felix dislike him. He also tries not to think about why that thought creeps into his head at all. 

 

Felix is out of his armor, in just a loose shirt in Warden blue and tight fitting breeches of brushed leather. He looks incredibly soft and comfortable curled up in his chair with his legs tucked under him and his hands around his cup. 

“Would you like to join us for a drink?” he asks. “I’m sure we can find another chair somewhere in this library.” 

 

“Uh, I was actually just on my way… outside.” 

 

The lines around Dorian’s eyes crinkle in a dangerous way Carver knows all too well from his sister. “Fresh air? An excellent idea!” He cocks his head. “And what a coincidence. Felix was just telling me he wanted to get some. He’s not used to the wine, if you can believe it.” 

 

“Dorian…” Felix’s voice sounds like a warning but his face has gone so dark that Carver can make it out even in the dim light of the library. 

 

Dorian ignores him. “Perhaps you could accompany him. Walking the battlements alone can be so terribly dull, don’t you agree?” 

 

Carver swallows. “I… don’t know.” 

 

“I’d go with him of course. But as you can see, too much work.” He nudges one of the books on the floor with his toes and smiles. 

 

Carver’s eyes flick to Felix who gives him a small apologetic smile. “It’s a little cold out for just… a shirt.” 

 

“Yes!” Felix nods. “He’s right, Dorian. Perhaps some other -”

 

“Oh, you’re in luck,” Dorian says. “You can take my coat.” He pulls it from the back of his chair and tosses it into Felix’s lap. 

 

“That’s not a coat.” 

 

“No, it’s art. But it’ll keep you warm enough. You’re welcome.”

 

Felix sighs but puts on the coat. Or cloak. Or whatever Dorian calls this assortment of straps and buckles. It’s a little big on Felix but Carver thinks he’d probably look good in a flour sack. 

 

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Felix stops Carver with a light touch to his arm. “I’m sorry. This is very awkward. You don’t have to -”

 

“No!” Carver says, a little too loudly. “No, I don’t mind. I like spending time with you.” 

 

Felix ducks his head. “I do, too. I just wish Dorian weren’t so pushy about it.” 

 

Carver scoffs and holds the door to the battlements open for Felix. “Yeah, people around here seem very intent on getting us to spend time together.” 

 

“Bethany?” Felix guesses with a little grin that only widens when he Carver nods.

 

It’s a sunny day but the winds up on the battlements are still brisk enough. In Dorian’s coat, Felix doesn’t seem to mind, reaching up to stretch as soon as they reach the top of the stairs. He makes a satisfied noise. 

 

“I’m not used to being cooped up inside for so long anymore,” he says with a little apologetic smile when he catches Carver staring. “Perhaps Dorian was right. It’s too nice of a day for just wine and books, don’t you think?” 

 

“I’m not really one for books,” Carver admits. 

 

“But for wine?” 

 

Carver makes a face. “Ale is more like it.” 

 

Felix laughs, a pleasant sound over the rush of the wind. “But we can agree on the quality of the day, at least,” he says and somehow Carver doesn’t feel like hurling himself over the edge of the battlements. Felix steps closer to the edge, his hands resting on the stone. “Maker, do you ever get used to this view?” 

 

If he’s honest, Carver hasn’t given much thought to the landscape surrounding Skyhold. Not since climbing the walls for the very first time. “After a while,” he says and goes to stand next to Felix. He looks out over the mountains and the valley below. Felix is right. It’s impressive. 

 

Carver fidgets. Now that he finally has Felix alone, in daylight even, he’s lost for words. One of the guards walks past, just as Carver opens his mouth to speak and he shuts it quickly, turning back to face the view. Felix looks at him and Carver can see the smile even from the corner of his eye. 

 

“It’s difficult to find some privacy around here, isn’t it?” 

 

“Apart from the kitchen. At midnight.” 

 

Felix laughs and Carver dares to look. The setting sun is warm on Felix’s face, softening the edges and giving his skin a glow that’s altogether too lovely. Felix looks at him expectantly as if he was a person who isn't prone to fumbling around gorgeous men. 

 

“You are very good,” he says lamely. “Good at fighting. With that staff.” Perhaps jumping off the battlements wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

 

Felix’s smile does nothing to hide his surprise. “Thank you. I saw you sparring with Seeker Pentaghast. It was… impressive.” 

 

“Perhaps I could go up against you sometime.” Carver cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. What is  _ wrong _ with him? 

 

“Oh.” The corner of Felix’s mouth twitches. “I don’t think I could take you.” 

 

“I might let you.” 

 

_ Maker _ . 

 

Felix’s lips curl into a smile that turn Carver’s insides to mush. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

 

Carver laughs and it sounds about as nervous as he feels. “Should we…” He gestures towards the stairs that lead up to the Southern Tower. 

 

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

 

It’s been nearly two years since they moved into Skyhold but there are still parts of the keep that are in a dangerous state of disrepair. Carver never really minded it - after all, there were always more pressing matters to attend to. More important things on which to spend the Inquisition’s resources. It never mattered to him until now as he has to guide Felix through more than one room filled with rubble. 

 

Felix doesn’t seem to mind, especially not when Carver offers him his hand as they descend a particularly broken down flight of stairs. His hand feels warm in Carver’s and he squeezes it just a little bit before letting go. Carver curls his tingling fingers into a fist at his side and clears his throat. 

 

At least there are less people here. They can still be spotted from the courtyard but few guards ever bother to patrol this part of the battlements - much to Cullen’s chagrin. 

 

“Oh, you can see the camp down in the valley from here,” Felix calls out and leans dangerously far over the edge in a way that makes Carver feel a little queasy. “You could build a whole village for all those people.” 

 

“That’s the plan,” Carver says and fights the urge to grab Felix to pull him back. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought him here. Parts of the wall are held up by wooden beams and in some parts the stone has crumbled completely. 

 

Felix must have heard the pressed tone of his voice because he turns around and cocks an eyebrow. “Is everything alright? You’re very pale.” He leans back against the stone and Carver flinches, his hand darting out. 

 

“Please!” He stops just short of touching him. “Don’t do that.” 

 

“Oh,” Felix says as it dawns on him. “Oooh. You’re scared of heights.” 

 

Carver huffs. “No.” And then, in the face of Felix’s smile, “Perhaps a little bit.” He clears his throat. “I’m more scared of you falling to your death, though.” 

 

Felix takes a deliberate step away from the edge. “Better?” 

 

Carver nods. “It’s a completely reasonable fear to have, you know.” 

 

“Oh, sure.” Felix grins. “It must be difficult for you. With you being this tall and everything…” Carver isn’t quite sure if he sounds mocking or just appreciative. Perhaps a bit of both. 

 

“That’s hardly the same thing.” 

 

Felix lays his fingertips against his lips as if to contain a smile. “Mh, yes. At least I don’t think I’d break my neck if you were to drop me.” 

 

Carver’s mouth feels dry. “I wouldn’t drop you.” 

 

“That’s what I thought.” 

 

Felix turns around and Carver follows as if he wasn’t the one supposed show Felix around. He feels a bit calmer once they reach the part of the battlements that has already been repaired, even if it means more guards who all insist on greeting them as they pass. By the time they make their way to the stairs leading back to the upper courtyard, the sun stands low enough to paint the mountaintops in flaming red. Felix stops to watch it set but there’s so much wonder in his eyes that Carver finds it difficult to look at anything other than his face. 

 

They stay until the sun is but a last shimmer of gold on the horizon. Carver knows from experience that without it, it’s going to get cold really fast - even for someone dressed in outrageous Tevinter fashion. Just as he’s about to suggest they should go inside, Felix turns to him, a pensive look on his face. 

 

“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” he says. 

 

“For what?”

 

“Your spymaster has talked to me. Leliana.” Felix shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “She’s asked me if I wanted to send a letter to my father.” 

 

“Oh, that’s good, right?” The topic somehow still feels like walking on thin ice to Carver. And he’s prone to stumbling, after all. “Has she told you where he is?” 

 

Felix nods. “Yes, Crestwood. It’s not… exactly where I thought you’d send him.” 

 

“Caer Bronach,” Carver says quickly. “It’s good. Leliana has a lot of people there. It’s safe. I mean, there was a dragon but it’s, uh, not there… anymore.” There probably isn’t a way to say “I put a sword through its eye” without sounding like either a braggart or a crazy person. 

 

“So I’ve heard,” Felix says with a little smile. 

 

Ah, right. Carver forgets sometimes how Dorian likes to talk. 

 

“Do you want to visit him?” 

 

Felix blinks, obviously surprised by the question. “I… Yes. I don’t know when I’d get the possibility, however. It’s not exactly what I was sent here to do.” 

 

Carver shrugs. “I could go with you. If you want.” 

 

“You would?” Felix stares at him, his eyes wide, before he appears to think better of it. “I appreciate it but I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties. I know you’re very busy.” 

 

“We need to go there sometimes. On actual Inquisition business, I mean. We could take you with us next time.” 

 

Felix hesitates for just a moment but then he smiles, something soft in his eyes as he puts his hand on Carver’s arm. “I’d really like that.” 

 

Carver feels something tighten in his chest and thinks he’d accompany Felix to the ends of the earth if it came down to it. He’d only need to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


End file.
